Ladies and gentlemen, I present our precious baby girl Maoliosa Grace O’Neill. She was born on Wednesday July 21st, weighing 9lbs 10 oz and is healthy and happy and a total doll.
In the end I didn’t have to be induced, thank goodness. I was already a few days late when labour started. I dread to think what weight the child would have been if left for 10 more days. I dare say I’d have made the front page of the Irish News with the north’s first 18lb baby.
Fourth time around labour wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I’m sure any expectant mother, whether it’s your first or your tenth baby, gets somewhat anxious when it comes to the birth. Me particularly as things seem to happen rather quickly.
My first son was almost born in the corridor of the Royal in Belfast. I remember walking to the nurse’s station and informing the girls there that I thought the baby might be arriving in a relatively short space of time. They were watching Coronation Street, the one where Gayle’s evil husband drives the family’s people carrier into the river. I was told to go back to bed that I wouldn’t be having a baby until morning, presumably until the whole Coronation Street drama died down. I assumed that me being new at this game, them being skilled and experienced midwives that they knew the score. Perhaps I am a unique case, but ten minutes later I was being propelled down the corridor at approx 60mph to the delivery suite where the boy was born seconds later.
The second boy was almost born in the construction site of the newly built south wing of Altnagelvin Hospital after the husband got us completely lost on the way to labour and delivery (there’s a lot to be said for dummy runs and planning your route to the maternity ward). The husband thought that on this occasion he might have to deliver the baby with the help of several dungareed construction workers.
When my third son was born the hospital sent me home informing me that, you’ve guessed it, there was to be no baby till morning. An hour later the husband was making a frantic dash across the bridge to the hospital, honestly believing, yet once more, that he was going to have to deliver the child himself.
This time around when I presented at the hospital on the Wednesday morning and the midwife told me no baby till much, much later I asked, even for the sake of the husband’s sanity and nerves that they keep me in for even a few hours. Since I had a ‘history’ of express deliveries they fortunately agreed to keep me there.
The midwives told me that I was nowhere near even established labour and to take a walk around the hospital, in my night attire, in the hope that the walking and the shame of dandering around in my nightie (perhaps even encountering a few dignatories and news crews opening a fancy new wing) might get the ball rolling.
One minute the husband and I were strolling leisurely around the new hospital admiring the artwork and taking bets on what time the baby would arrive, the next ‘hell on wheels, the baby’s coming’.
I had made plans for a lovely water birth, whale sounds, hippy chanting and incense. Truth was, the midwives hadn’t even time to fill the birthing pool.
Our beautiful baby girl arrived safely at 4.23pm in the wonderful new midwife led unit at Altnagelvin Hospital to the sound of bath water running. Thanks to Midwife Claire Lynch and trainee midwives Kate and Claire, all went beautifully.
She’s been in our lives now for a week and it seems like she’s always been here. She’s a real blessing. Although we’re getting no sleep and can barely manage to string a sentence together she has brought even more sunshine to our house.
I had always wanted a daughter. My Mum and me have a special relationship – she’s truly my best friend – I always wished for a daughter so I could mirror that closeness in my own later years.
I discovered I was pregnant the week my father died last year. I can’t help but think that once my father reached heaven, he had words with the big man up above and sent me my baby girl. Thanks Daddy.
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